Praise for
SUSAN MALLERY

“Susan Mallery is warmth and wit personified.

Always a fabulous read.”

—New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd

“Ms. Mallery’s unique writing style shines via vivid characters, layered disharmony and plenty of spice.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub

“A gifted storyteller, Ms. Mallery fills the pages with multi-faceted characters, solid plotting and passion that is both tender and sizzling.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub

“If you haven’t read Susan Mallery, you must!”

—New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Forster

SUSAN MALLERY is a USA TODAY bestselling author of over eighty books and has been a recipient of countless awards, including the National Reader’s Choice Award. Her combination of humor, emotion and downright sexiness has made her a reader favorite. She makes her home in Southern California with her husband, her very dignified cat and her not-so-dignified dog. Visit her Web site at www.SusanMallery.com.

Surrender in Silk

Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Prologue

Two rescue helicopters swooped down and broke the silence of the night like noisy birds of prey. Spinning blades kicked up sand, dirt and debris, swirling them into a blinding tornado. The powerful military engines were loud enough to wake the dead.

Worse, they would alert the enemy, but everyone expected that.

Zach Jones crouched behind an abandoned shack, his automatic weapon ready to fire. He squinted against the darkness and the cloud stirred up by the choppers, then made a beckoning motion with his left arm.

“Now,” he called to the dozen men waiting behind him. “Get going.”

They moved as one. A low, dark shape—men hunched over to provide a smaller target—slipping like a snake toward safety.

The first burst of gunfire came from the north end of the compound. Zach spun in that direction and pressed his finger on the trigger. Instantly the gun jerked to life, spitting bullets faster than the eye could see. His men sprinted quicker, lower, then broke ranks when one of their own was shot. Zach couldn’t see who had gone down. Damn. They’d already lost too many men on this mission.

“Grab him and get moving,” he yelled, still firing toward the enemy, giving his men protection as they scooped up their fallen companion and continued their escape.

The first helicopter had nearly reached the hard-packed earth, with the second close behind. The deafening noise had a life of its own. The power of the engine, the whipping of the blades, and the sharp, staccato bursts now coming from the tower at the far end of the compound.

“Dammit all to hell,” Zach muttered. He’d known there would be trouble on this mission. He’d planned for it. Just not well enough. Their intelligence information had underestimated the size of the enemy force by nearly a hundred. They’d had to abort and call in the helicopters early. His group of sixteen men had already been reduced by two. He glanced at the injured man being carried toward the first helicopter. Make that by three.

He touched the radio transmitter in his ear. “All right, Albatross, how bad is it?”

There was a brief scratching of static, then a voice said, “Bad. Three trucks of reinforcements just pulled up. I’ll do the best I can from up here.”

“The hell you will.” Zach stepped out of the protection of the shack and sent a quick burst of gunfire toward the tower, then ducked back to safety. “Get down here now. The choppers are going to be leaving pronto.”

“I can take out at least one of the trucks.”

Zach swore. “They’re bringing in Stinger missiles. If they aim one at the choppers, we can kiss our ride home goodbye. Albatross, move it. Now!”

“Yes, sir.”

But Albatross never made it. Seconds later the southern wall where Albatross had been hiding exploded in a brilliant flash of fire and heat. Zach turned away, as much to protect himself from the blast as to save his night vision. The smell of helicopter exhaust, sand, dust, ash and burning wood flooded him.

He spared a quick glance at the first helicopter. All the men were inside. He pressed another button on the transmitter. “Get the hell out of here,” he said.

“Yes, sir.” The first chopper lifted off immediately and quickly climbed into the night.

There were more bursts of gunfire, followed by muffled shouts. The enemy was organizing. Zach eyed the distance to the second chopper, then wondered how many bullets he would take between here and there.

“Sir, we’ve got you covered,” a voice from the chopper said in his ear. “Anytime you’re ready.”

“Now,” Zach said, and took a step forward.

He never got farther than that. Something fast slammed into the exhaust pipe of the helicopter. The bird exploded.

Fiery debris flew through the night, knocking Zach down, cutting through his clothes and burning his skin. Despite the pain, he tried to crawl away. But his leg wasn’t working. It hurt too damn much to be gone, but he knew he’d injured it badly. He’d hurt something else, too. Maybe his head. The night sky started spinning as the ground rushed up to meet him.

Just before he lost consciousness, he saw several pairs of military boots surround him. The bastards were going to get him alive and they were going to make him pay for what he and his men had done this night. As the darkness claimed him, Zach Jones knew Albatross was the lucky one.

He’d had the good sense to die.

Chapter 1

“You can’t leave him there,” Jamie Sanders said, then shoved her hands into her jeans pockets so no one would see that she was shaking. She wasn’t sure if it was caused by rage or fear.

Probably a little of both.

“Zach Jones is dead,” Winston Danville III stated calmly.

“You don’t know that. According to the men who got away, he wasn’t in the second helicopter when it exploded.”

Winston leaned back in his leather chair and stared at her. Jamie had always thought his combination of pale blue eyes and white blond hair made him look like a Hollywood casting director’s idea of the perfect villain—cool, confident, in control. Winston’s reputation did nothing to dispute that image.

“Three weeks, Jamie,” Winston said softly. “Three weeks in one of their prisons, being tortured several times a day. If Zach Jones wasn’t dead, he is now.”

Her stomach rolled at the thought. She desperately needed him to be alive, but the thought of him having to endure that kind of suffering was more than she could bear. The word torture wasn’t just a casual phrase to her. She was intimately familiar with the inhumanity of deliberately inflicting pain on prisoners. Surely death would be a kinder fate.

But Zach wasn’t dead.

She crossed the richly decorated room and sank into one of the leather chairs opposite her boss’s desk. She stared at him, meeting his cold gaze with an equally determined stare of her own. She’d trained at the hands of a master. She knew how to intimidate as well as anyone in the agency.

Surprisingly Winston looked away first.

Before she could pounce on her unexpected advantage, there was a quick knock at the door. Winston’s pretty, young assistant stepped inside and brought them each a mug of coffee.

Jamie accepted the cup with a muttered “Thanks” and took a sip. The assistant glanced at her, then left. Jamie knew she looked out of place. The worn jeans, scuffed athletic shoes, faded tank top and the flannel shirt she wore instead of a jacket didn’t fit the dress code of the office. She had never been the suit-and-high-heels type. She filed away the feeling of discomfort, knowing she would deal with it at another time. All that mattered now was Zach.

“He’s not dead,” Jamie repeated.

Winston raised one eyebrow. “How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“I see. Well, fine. I’ll write up the report and quote your intuition as the source. I’m sure the director will be convinced.”

Jamie set the coffee on the desk and rose. “I’m going in, Winston, with or without your permission.”

“No, you aren’t. You still work for me and you’ll do what I tell you.” He paused and raised his pale eyebrows. “Unless you plan to resign. Isn’t that what you’ve been talking about?”

He was right. She had wanted out. The last mission was supposed to have been her final one. She even had the letter of resignation typed up at home. But she hadn’t turned it in. A voice inside of her, a voice Zach had taught her to listen to, had whispered to wait. Now she understood why.

“That was before I knew about Zach.”

Winston motioned to the chair. Jamie hesitated. Since finding out what had happened to Zach Jones, she’d been on the move. She’d flown directly to Washington on the first flight she could get. Once in the capital, she’d made a few phone calls and come up with a plan. All she needed was Winston’s cooperation.

Sitting down felt too much like giving up, but her boss was stubborn enough not to talk to her if she didn’t at least pretend to go along with him. Grudgingly she perched on the edge of her seat.

He reached for his coffee and took a sip. “I wasn’t aware you and Zach were so close.”

Jamie grimaced. “You know we aren’t. Zach took me through training and my first assignment. He made me the best. I owe him for that.”

There was more, of course, but Winston didn’t need to hear about it. Their boss prided himself on knowing every detail of his operatives’ lives. This was one detail he hadn’t been able to claim. Not that it mattered. Seven years was a long time for anyone to remember. She was reasonably sure Zach had been able to forget, even if she hadn’t.

“According to my records, you’ve never worked with him since. That’s a long time to carry a debt,” Winston said.

She shrugged.

“Interesting.” He leaned back in his chair. “And touching. But the answer has to be no.”

She was on her feet in an instant, her hands braced on his desk. “Listen to me, Winston. Short of arresting me, you can’t keep me from going after Zach. You can make it easy or you can make it hard, but I’m doing this.” She glared at him, ignoring the frosty look in his icy blue eyes.

“You’ll end up just as dead as he is.”

“I’m willing to take the chance.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

“Maybe, but I’m a determined fool. Besides, if you’re right and I do get killed, how are you going to explain my body?”

“Terrorists don’t send bodies home.”

“What if they do this time?”

His thin lips twisted in disapproval. “I’ll handle it the way I’ve handled other problems.”

“I’ll leave a letter with my lawyer explaining everything and exposing the agency.”

“Don’t threaten me, Sanders.”

She knew she was playing with fire, but she didn’t have a choice in the matter. She had to convince him. “I have a better chance of surviving with your help than without it,” she told him. “But it doesn’t matter what you say or do. I’m going in after Zach and I’m going to bring him home.”

“I suppose you’re just going to walk in there and take him from under their noses,” Winston said. He reached for his mug and cradled it in both hands.

Jamie sank into her seat. “Exactly.”

He stared at her for a long minute. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she refused to let the silence make her squirm. She was an expert at waiting. She had to convince him. Winston was her only hope. She would go in without agency assistance, but without the backup, the odds for success were almost zero.

Finally he nodded briefly. “Explain.”

Relief crashed through her. She had him. He was going to agree. Once he heard her plan, he would be convinced—she knew it!

She pushed aside the momentary flush of victory and concentrated on the task at hand. She grabbed a pen and the blank legal pad poking out of the pile of papers on his desk. Working quickly, she made a sketch of the compound, based on the aerial photographs she’d seen and what she knew about the area.

She drew the low, one-story building where Zach was probably being kept. A quarter mile away was their munitions storage.

When she finished, she slid the paper toward Winston. “Zach is here,” she said, trying to sound as if she really knew where he was being held instead of just guessing. “It’s not a main training facility, which is in our favor. Also, Zach’s men were there less than a month ago. The debriefing information should still be accurate. The plane will drop us off about thirty miles away, and we’ll drive until we get within sight of the perimeter.”

“We?”

She nodded, trying to act casual. “Rick Estes is coming with me.”

Winston was a pro. He might wear expensive suits and silk ties, but there had been a time when he’d been the best field agent in the agency. Not by a flicker of his pale lashes did he give away what he was thinking.

“Why Estes?”

“He owes Zach, too.”

“I wasn’t aware Agent Jones inspired such loyalty.”

She didn’t bother commenting on that one.

After a few moments of silence, Winston shook his head. “It won’t work.”

“But we—”

“No, Jamie. I’m not the heartless bastard you think I am. I didn’t abandon Zach to those animals. He’s a good man and a friend. I’ve already sent in a team. Half the group couldn’t get close, the other half suffered fifty percent casualties. Enough people have died. I’m not risking any more just to bring home a corpse.”

She hadn’t known. She could feel the blood draining from her head. The room tilted, but she didn’t give in to the weakness.

She swore under her breath. “We have a better plan.”

“Backed by that famous intuition of yours?”

She ignored the sarcasm. “You sent in a team. This time there’s just going to be the two of us. Rick will create a diversion, and I’ll get Zach out. We’ll rendezvous at the jeep, then meet the plane.”

“Sounds simple. Why didn’t we think of that?” He glared at her. “Jamie, you’re not stupid. What do you think you can do that hasn’t already been tried?”

“We’re going to blow up the munitions.”

That got Winston’s attention. He leaned forward in his executive leather chair. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m aware of the potential problem.”

“Problem? Problem? We don’t know what’s there, Sanders. That’s a hell of a lot more than just a problem.”

For the first time since entering Winston’s office, she was the one to look away. She and Rick had discussed this in detail. Blowing up the terrorists’ ammunition and weapons would be a terrific diversion. There was only one catch. No one knew exactly what was stored there. If their intelligence was correct, then Rick could safely blow it up. If the intelligence was wrong—if the terrorists had more-powerful bombs and explosives—then the blast would not only take out the stash, but Rick, Jamie and everyone else in the vicinity, including Zach.

“It’s a calculated risk,” she said softly. “One Rick and I are prepared to take.”

Winston glared at her. He punched a button on his phone. “Get Estes in here.” He broke the connection without waiting for a reply. “I assume he’s lurking around waiting to hear the outcome of this meeting.”

“Yes.”

Winston swore. “You’re putting me in a difficult position.”

She drew in a deep breath. The relief was as tangible as the chair she sat in. “I’m sorry for that,” she said.

Winston glanced at her. “No, you’re not.”

“I know.”

“You’ll need a transport plane, a jeep. I assume Estes already has his supply list ready.”

She nodded.

“You really think Zach is still alive?”

“I know he is.”

“You could be risking your life for a dead man.”

“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Come!” Winston called.

Rick Estes entered. Jamie looked up at him and smiled. “We’re in.”

The cell was twelve-by-twelve, but Zach Jones couldn’t appreciate his spacious accommodations. The chain that ran from the floor to the metal collar around his neck was so short, he couldn’t stand without choking. Not that he had the strength to stand anymore.

He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. At least he could lie down if he wanted to. When he lost the will to do anything else, he collapsed onto the dirty straw in his cell and listened to the rustling of unseen creatures.

By his figuring, he’d been a prisoner for about three weeks. He could be off by as much as four days. Some of the “sessions” with his captors left him unconscious, and then the rising and setting of the sun went unnoticed and unmarked. The days they left him alone slipped by easily, aided by the feverish sleep that claimed him. The days they came for him were endless hours of pain and suffering as he struggled to maintain a slim hold on sanity. He’d surrendered his humanity the first time they’d beaten him with the chains. Now he just wanted to live long enough to get out.

A fly buzzed nearby, but he ignored it, as he ignored the scabs on his face and his cracked lips. He hadn’t had any food or water for over twenty-four hours. He knew what was coming. They starved him to the point of weakness and dehydration, then they beat him. They came when his reserves were at their lowest. Then they left him to heal just enough to endure the torment again.

Every inch of him was bruised and bloodied. He didn’t think they’d broken any bones. At least, not yet. He’d called upon all the training he’d been given in order to survive this ordeal. He hung on to the fact that it wouldn’t continue forever. Either he would be rescued or he would die.

There was no middle ground.

After three weeks of being chained, his swollen, beaten muscles had become so weak he couldn’t walk. He could barely feed himself. The fever came and went. Several sores were infected. He was in bad shape. If they didn’t get him out in the next few days, they might as well not bother.

In his lucid moments, he thought about the various plans they might employ to rescue him. He figured teams had already been sent in and failed. He knew Winston would weigh the cost of his life against the risk to other operatives. Zach didn’t know how much his boss would think he was worth. Maybe that line had already been crossed.

Maybe no one was coming.

He opened his eyes and stared at the small window on the other side of the cell. From his seated position, he could only see a rectangle of blue sky. The cell faced south. If he inhaled sharply, he could catch the scent of the outdoors, a flower of some kind, the hint of warmth in the air. Today it was enough.

He didn’t mind dying. Sure, he had regrets, who wouldn’t? But he could live with them. He’d known it would come to this. Warriors always died in battle. But, dammit, he would like to go out with a weapon in his hand.

In the distance, a door opened. Despite his desire not to react, he stiffened when he heard the faint laughter of the guards, followed by the metallic clinking of the chains. They had returned to punish him again.

He cleared his mind, forcing himself into a deeper place. One untouched by pain and blood. His breathing slowed, as did his heartbeat. His superior strength and training had kept him alive this long. It would keep him alive a little longer. Sometimes he was pleased, but most of the time he cursed his inability to find release in death.

Jamie checked her utility belt for the fourth time. She knew exactly what was there, but the ritual made her feel better. More relaxed. Pressure built in her ears. She swallowed to relieve it, then glanced out the window. They were descending.

“Nearly show time,” Rick Estes said from the seat across the aisle. “You ready?”

“Of course.”

Rick touched the heavy backpack next to him and grinned. “Me, too.”

Jamie studied him. She and Rick had been recruited into the agency within a few days of each other. They’d gone through training together, under the watchful eye of Zach Jones, then had gone with him on their first mission. They’d been green and scared. When things had started to go wrong, Zach had saved both of them.

Seven years ago. She and Rick had changed. He’d been a gawky, awkward young man with a gift for explosives. She’d been the only woman in a class of eight. Zach hadn’t given her a moment of special consideration and had nearly flunked her for not having the upper-body strength to complete the obstacle course.

Now Rick had filled out and matured. He spoke about timers and fuses as if they were intimate members of his family. His red hair was still worn short, but the innocence was gone from his eyes.

Jamie knew she’d changed, too. The last time she’d tried the obstacle course, she’d beaten every man in her group. She’d honed her body into a lean, muscled machine. It had required hours of dedication, but she’d been determined to be the best. As soon as she and Rick got Zach to safety, she would resign from the agency and have to face the question of what to do with the rest of her life. But for now there was only the mission.

As the plane slipped toward the ground, Jamie double-checked the contents of her backpack. She had food and water, along with medical supplies. Her knowledge of first aid was limited to crisis management. Her gaze moved past Rick, to the far end of the plane. A medical team sat together, talking in low voices. The doctor had already briefed her on what to expect if Zach was still alive. Dehydration, infection, possible broken bones. All she had to do was get him back to the plane. The team would take care of the rest.

There was a slight bump, then the engines jerked into reverse as the plane taxied to a stop. Jamie and Rick were already up and moving. By the time the plane came to a stop, they were in the jeep, prepared to back out into the desolate countryside.

Jamie wasn’t sure how they’d gotten permission to use this private airstrip and she wasn’t about to ask. Winston knew people everywhere. He pulled strings, called in favors, paid whatever sum was necessary and everyone looked the other way. As long as the job got done, the director was happy.

“Ready?” Rick asked.

When she nodded, he started the engine. The rear of the plane opened slowly; the floor behind them lowered into a steep ramp. With a salute to the medical team, Rick put the vehicle in reverse, then backed onto the tarmac.

Brilliant sunshine blinded her momentarily. Jamie grabbed her sunglasses and put them on. It was late March, and the Middle Eastern desert temperature was pleasant. At least Zach hadn’t had to suffer through the summer heat.

Rick checked his compass, then hit the gas. Within five minutes, they were driving due north and the plane was out of sight.

“Once we leave the jeep, I’m going to need an hour and fifteen minutes,” Rick said, going over what they’d planned.

“I brought a book to help pass the time.”

He glanced at her and grinned. “Loosen up, Sanders. It’ll take a lot more than these guys to kill Zach. You know that. They don’t come any tougher than him.”

“I know.”

She tugged her cap lower over her forehead. If their luck was good, no one would see the jeep speeding along the dirt-and-sand-coated paved road. They would get to the compound, blow up the depot, get Zach and be gone. If their luck was bad—

Jamie refused to think about that. She’d known the risks involved when she’d stormed into Winston’s office. Being obliterated by the depot explosion was the least of her concerns.

She shifted on her seat, then reached over her shoulder to pull her long braid out of the way. As she fingered the end, she remembered the first time Zach had told her she had to cut her hair before she returned to class the next day. She’d spent the night studying regulations and had reported back that short hair wasn’t one of the rules. They weren’t in the military, after all. The agency’s purpose was to quickly protect U.S. interests abroad—by whatever means necessary.

She felt her lips curve into a smile. Zach had been mad enough to spit nails. For a second, something had flickered in his gaze. She’d wanted to believe it was respect. He’d leaned so close, she’d felt his breath on her face.

“Your damn hair is going to get you killed, Sanders,” he’d roared, still inches from her.

Although she’d been shaking so hard she’d barely been able to stand, she hadn’t backed down.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take, sir.”

He’d grabbed her braid and pulled it around her neck. Hard. “What about the risk to the team?”

She hadn’t had an answer for that question. She couldn’t risk the others because of her pride.

He’d given her a cruel, mocking smile and walked away. So much for respect. That night she’d cut her hair. In the past few years, she’d let it grow back.

Zach. It was always about him.

Rick slowed down. Up ahead was an outcropping of rocks.

He parked in their shadow and climbed out. Jamie followed. She checked the sun, her watch, then pulled out her compass.

“Two miles that way,” she said, pointing northeast. “Try not to get lost this time.”

Rick grinned. “Are you ever going to let me forget that one?”

“Never.”

They walked together in silence. Thirty minutes later, they parted company. Jamie could see the compound in the distance. High fences should have shielded the inside from curious eyes, but most of them had recently been blown away. There were several buildings, trucks and dozens of armed men. Her heart started pounding in her chest. Dammit, they didn’t have a prayer of making this work.

Then she forced herself to slow her breathing. Gradually her muscles relaxed.

The terrorists had chosen this spot specifically. There weren’t a lot of trees or plants, so it was difficult to approach the compound without being seen. She found a shallow depression in the warm earth and again breathed a prayer of thanks that it wasn’t summer.

Her camouflage uniform was the color of sand and dirt. With her cap and smudged face, she would be difficult to spot unless she did something stupid. She slid off her backpack, then reached for a bottle of water. After taking a sip, she settled down to wait. An hour and fifteen minutes until Rick blew the depot. If he blew it.

“Don’t think like that,” she told herself. “Everything is going to be fine.”

She grabbed her binoculars and rolled onto her belly. She could just make out the details of the buildings. She focused on the section to the left. A low, one-story structure with small windows. According to their intelligence information, Zach was in there. Possibly chained. She had small but strong cutters in her backpack. If he was there, she was going to get him out.

“Just an hour and twelve minutes now, Zach,” she said softly, scanning the area around her. No one had seen them arrive. All they needed was a little luck. “Hang on. Just hang on.”

She lowered the binoculars and took another sip of water. Her shoulder began to ache. She shifted, remembering the first time she’d lain flat on her belly to scan the enemy’s position. It hadn’t been the desert then. Seven years ago, she’d gone to the Central American jungle. She’d been as green and soft as a ripe avocado, and just as effective. She would have died in that jungle if it hadn’t been for Zach Jones.

That’s why she was here today. To pay that debt. And maybe, just maybe, to get a few questions answered.

Chapter 2

Seven years ago

Jamie sucked in a breath. She could feel the snake crawling over the backs of her thighs. Zach had already glanced at it and dismissed it as harmless. Her entire life experience with crawly things had been seeing one dead rattler at the end of the block the summer she’d been ten. Even then, the sight of the squashed, dead reptile had been enough to make her shudder. Being this close to a live snake made her stomach churn.

I’m not going to throw up, she told herself firmly, ignoring the clamminess of her skin. The prickly feeling of heat and dampness had nothing to do with her nerves and everything to do with the temperature and humidity of the jungle. She’d spent the first twenty-one years of her life in Arizona. This was like visiting another planet.

Slowly, trying to move without making a sound, she raised the binoculars to her eyes and peered into the darkness. It wasn’t night, but the thick, lush foliage and tall trees didn’t let in a lot of sunlight. She studied the path twenty feet in front of them, and the clumps of greenery. She lowered the binoculars and shook her head.

Zach stared at her. His dark brown eyes bored into hers, until she felt as if he were digging down to her soul. A muscle in his cheek twitched.

Look again, idiot.

He didn’t say the words. He didn’t have to. She could clearly read his irritation.

Once again she raised the binoculars and stared at the trees, then the plants, then the path. There wasn’t anyone there.

She wanted to elbow Zach Jones right below his rib cage. She knew where and how to do it, too. High and hard, so all of his air rushed out and his diaphragm convulsed a couple of times before relaxing enough to let him suck in a breath.

Her track coach had shown her how, her sophomore year in high school. She’d run cross-country with the boys’ team because there hadn’t been enough interested females to form a girls’ team. Those long bus rides would have been impossible if she hadn’t known how to take care of herself. She’d learned quickly. It wasn’t difficult. She was a jock by nature, preferring a pickup basketball game to shopping or attending dance class.

But she knew if she tried to elbow Zach, he would get her in a headlock that would cut off her air so fast, she would see stars. Besides, as annoying and hurtful as she found him, he wasn’t the enemy. He was in charge of the mission.

When she’d scanned everything a third time, she lowered her binoculars and shook her head again. Zach’s mouth twisted with impatience. He clamped his hand on the top of her head and turned her until she was staring to the far left. He pointed to a tree that had broken in half. The charred trunk looked as if it had been struck by lightning. Or a bomb.

He gave her a quick, painful squeeze as if to say, There, you dumb recruit.

She stared hard, then bit back a gasp. Leaning against the trunk of the tree, nearly hidden by the shadows, was a man. Zach had found him without the benefit of binoculars. Geez, he was better than everyone had said, and the rumors made him a living legend. She wanted to scream with frustration. Just once she would like to impress Zach and have the last word.

Zach motioned for her to slide back. She worked her knees and forearms, crawling along the ground, trying not to think about creepy or slithery things. Thick air swirled around her, making her sweat. A drop fell into her eyes, and she blinked away the accompanying burn.

They slipped silently through the jungle. When they were about two hundred feet from the man, Zach stood up. Before Jamie could scramble into a standing position, he grabbed her by the backpack and pulled her upright.

“I don’t need your help,” she said as she staggered a step or two to find her balance, then dropped the binoculars around her neck.

“Yeah, right.”

He dismissed her as easily as he’d dismissed the snake. It had been like that from the beginning. Zach Jones had told her the first day of training that he believed women were smarter than men, that they thought faster on their feet and they followed orders better. But that didn’t mean they made good field agents. Women didn’t have the gut instinct to kill. It had to be taught. And more times than not, they hesitated before ending a life. That hesitation was expensive, for them and for the team. If anyone hesitated, everyone might die.

She’d stood before him then, arms stiff at her side, her chin raised. “I won’t hesitate, sir,” she’d said firmly.

“You won’t be here long enough for it to be an issue.”

But he’d been wrong about that. She’d survived the six-month training course. She’d mastered weapons, communications, map reading and an assortment of electronic and computerized equipment. She was one of the best trainees the agency had ever had. She’d worked hard to build her upper-body strength, but she hadn’t known how to develop her killer instinct. She knew it, and Zach knew it.

He was good-looking enough to tempt a statue. She’d developed a crush the first week of training, then had tried to bury it under hard work. She’d done everything Zach ever asked and more, but he’d never acknowledged her effort. Or her. Occasionally he’d gone for a drink with the guys, but she’d never been invited. She was done trying to make Zach notice or like her. Jamie had been looking forward to seeing the last of Zach Jones. After graduation she’d gotten her first assignment. With him.

Zach plowed through the jungle. When she would have stopped to study her compass, he moved quickly, as if the path were familiar. She didn’t even see a path.

Life was all around them. Plants, bugs, snakes, small creatures that rustled the leaves on the ground. Only the birds were silent, alert and watchful. She wasn’t fond of the jungle. Why couldn’t insurrection happen in the desert, which she was familiar with, or better yet in the mountains? She’d always wanted to go to the mountains.

She pictured a cool stream washing over shiny rocks. Unfortunately, at the same moment, she stopped paying attention to the path in front of her. She tripped over a half-hidden tree root and tumbled toward the ground.

Zach caught her before she fell. He jerked on her backpack, pulling at her shoulders. With his other hand, he grabbed her arm. His fingers bit into her sore muscles.

“That one is poisonous,” he said when he released her. She glanced in the direction he pointed and saw a brightly colored snake slither away.

She looked up at him. Good manners dictated that she thank him. No matter how hard he made it, he’d just saved her life. Her heart pounded loud and fast in her chest. Her breathing was labored. The physical reaction was as much to seeing the deadly snake as to the exertions of hiking through the killer heat.

The hell with good manners. “If you dislike me so much, why didn’t you ask to have me transferred to another assignment?” she asked.

“I requested you, Sanders.”

Of course. It made sense. “So you could drum me out.” It wasn’t a question.

Jamie was nearly five-nine, but Zach was a good six inches taller than her. He outweighed her by fifty pounds. He was as friendly as an iceberg and as animated as a building. He was good-looking enough to never lack for female companionship, but Jamie knew that inside, Zach Jones was nothing but a black hole. Which made the slightly romantic feelings she had when she was around him even more frustrating. The man obviously hated her.

“I don’t think you have what it takes,” he said.

“You told me I wouldn’t graduate and you were wrong.”

“Now we’re out in the real world. No second chances.”

She flinched, knowing he was referring to her appeal on failing the obstacle course. “I see. And you wanted to be here to watch me blow it.”

“I’m here to get the job done, Sanders. Nothing more. Quit trying to make it personal.”

“Requesting me specifically is personal.”

They stood there, staring at each other. She could feel sweat collecting on her face and dripping down her back. Zach looked cool and comfortable. If she thought she could have gotten away with it, she would have elbowed him in the midsection and left him for snake bait.

His dark gaze searched her face, then he gave her one of his mocking smiles. “Why don’t you find camp for us?” he said, and stepped back to let her lead.

“My pleasure, sir.” She pulled her compass out of her pants pocket and glanced at it. Then she checked the sun. Her stomach was acting up again. She knew it was from that last encounter with a snake. It had to be. She refused to be affected by Zach Jones’s low opinion of her.

Jamie found their base camp without a problem. Once there, she slipped off her heavy backpack and poured herself a glass of water from one of the plastic containers they’d brought with them.

Their mission was simple. Collect information on certain known bands of guerrilla soldiers, including their whereabouts and numbers. They were not to confront or interact. They had four days, then they would be picked up by the same large, unmarked helicopters that had dropped them here.

Two more days, Jamie told herself. She would survive because she had something to prove. And because this was what she wanted. She’d known early on she wouldn’t make a good cop, like her dad, but this was close. She could still make a difference.

She checked the damp ground for bugs and snakes, then sank down and leaned against a thick tree. She closed her eyes and willed herself to relax. She was running on nerves. She hadn’t slept well in a week, and the strain was starting to get to her.

“How’s it going?”

She opened her eyes and saw Rick Estes standing in front of her. As the only woman, she’d taken a lot of ribbing at the beginning of class. By the second week, the seven men knew she wasn’t kidding and she wasn’t a typical female. All but a couple of them had kept their distance, not wanting to risk a friendship with a woman who Zach Jones was trying to get rid of.

She hadn’t asked for special treatment then and she wouldn’t accept it now. She’d earned everything through hard work and determination. If she hadn’t had so much trouble with the obstacle course, she would have graduated at the top of her class. If not for the one or two friendships she’d made, that six-month training course would have been miserable. Rick had been one of the friends. She was glad he was on the assignment with her.

She shrugged. “It’s going okay.”

Rick sank next to her and grinned. “Jones still riding you?”

“Constantly.”

On her good days, she told herself Zach Jones went out of his way to make her life miserable because he thought she had potential. He was determined to make her tough enough to survive and be the best. On her bad days, she figured he was nothing but a misogynist bastard who deserved to be horsewhipped, staked to a fire ant hill and left to slowly die. She told herself she didn’t need his approval or his friendship to survive. But in her heart, she wanted both.

Worse, she wanted more.

“See anything?” he asked.

“Someone on patrol.”

Actually she hadn’t seen him—Zach had. She might know all the theories and have a thorough understanding of field work, but she was quickly learning that was very different than actually living through it.

“Oh, I saw a poisonous snake, too,” she said.

“Cool. What kind?”

“I don’t want to think about it.”

Rick made a fist and gave her a mock punch in the upper arm. “Chin up, Sanders. It’ll get easier.”

“Thanks.”

She thought about pointing out that he was as green as she was, but figured this was male posturing. No doubt Rick also lived in fear of making a big mistake. Out here you didn’t fail a test if you messed up; you risked dying and taking everyone on the team with you.

Rick stood up and headed for one of the small tents they’d pitched. Jamie studied the camp. There were six operatives assigned to this mission. She and Rick were the newbies. Each of them had a senior officer who watched over them. She didn’t know if it was just fate or punishment sent down by an angry God, but she’d drawn Zach Jones.

Two of the men stood over a small metal folding table. Maps were spread out and examined. Zach strolled over and joined the discussion. He wasn’t the tallest of the group, nor was he the loudest, but as soon as he spoke, everyone paid attention.

Her gaze flickered over him, noting the broad shoulders, the strong muscles. He worked hard to stay in shape. She’d seen him running through the forest by the training center on the mornings she’d gotten up early to work through the obstacle course.

She’d known from the beginning that her lack of upper-body strength was going to be a problem. Running track had given her endurance, but not muscles in her arms. As soon as she’d been recruited by the agency, she’d started a training regime. Three mornings a week on the obstacle course, three mornings on weights, one day of rest.

About the third week of training, Zach had run through the forest and caught her on the overhead ladder. He’d startled her so much, she’d lost her grip and fallen on her butt in the mud. She’d thought he might give her a hand up, but instead he’d just stared. As usual, his expression hadn’t given anything away.

“I know this is a weakness, sir,” she’d said nervously. “I’m determined to pass.”

He’d jogged away without saying a word. Three days later, he’d shown up in the gym ten minutes after she started her circuit. They’d worked out together, sweating in a silence punctuated only by grunts and curses through the last repetition. After a couple of weeks of not talking, he’d offered to spot her so she could work with free weights and barbells.

She smiled slightly. There was something unnerving about lying flat on her back, staring up at a man’s thighs. But she’d done it because getting through was all that mattered. She’d worked hard and gotten stronger. Not that Zach had noticed.

Jamie finished her water and set the empty glass on her lap. Zach pulled off his cap and ran his fingers through his dark hair. Everything about him was dark, she thought. His hair, his eyes, his expression. If she pictured him in her mind, it was always a night scene, which was ridiculous. Except for a week spent on night maneuvers, she’d never seen the man in anything but daylight. Still, that was how she thought of him—dark and dangerous. As if he were second cousin to the devil himself.

A rustling in the bushes caught her attention. She turned toward the sound, then stiffened. It was definitely coming from something large. There was supposed to be one man on patrol. Had something happened?

Jamie glanced at Zach and the other two men. She needed to alert them, but she didn’t want to call out and risk giving their position away. Rick was on the far side of camp. He wasn’t going to be any help.

Quickly she glanced at the ground and found a small rock. She picked it up and took aim. The rock sailed toward Zach and hit him square in the back. He spun toward her.

She’d already pulled her pistol free and crouched by the tree. When she had his attention, she pointed toward the noise. Instantly the other men pulled their weapons, as well.

The rustling grew louder.

“Puta Madre! Where is your pinche camp?”

Jamie glanced at Zach. He smiled and lowered his pistol, then motioned for her to do the same.

“Ernesto, over here, amigo,” he called.

Jamie eased back into a sitting position and watched as a man of medium build broke through the brush and stepped into the small clearing. He glanced around, raising his eyebrows when he saw her, then walked to Zach and held out his hand.

“Ah, Major Jones, so pleased to see you again.”

Zach slapped the man on the back. “Last time you called me General Jones.”

“Last time I had just been paid by your agency. Now it is three weeks until the next check. So you are simply a major.”

“Makes sense.” Zach pointed to the map. “Tell me what you know, Ernesto.”

Their voices lowered, and Jamie couldn’t hear what they were saying. She walked over to get another glass of water, then returned to her seat by the tree. Ernesto kept glancing at her over his shoulder. She grimaced. Obviously he wasn’t used to seeing an American woman in the middle of the jungle.

A small lizard jumped from the tree and landed on her lap. She prided herself on only jumping slightly and not screaming at all. The creature stared at her for several seconds, flicked its tongue, then scurried off her and into the underbrush.

Definitely the desert, she thought. Next time she wanted an assignment in the desert.

Jamie, Rick and Nick Havers left on patrol at dawn. Jamie knew it was dawn because the total darkness lightened to only semi-darkness. They had simple instructions. Check the north end of the shallow valley to make sure there weren’t any soldiers camping out. According to Ernesto, their informant, the area was clean, but Zach wanted to double-check. Havers was along to make sure she and Rick didn’t get into trouble. His instructions were to observe, but not interfere. Which meant she and Rick could make fools of themselves and have a witness.

“Don’t screw this up,” she muttered under her breath. She pulled out her compass and then glanced east, searching for the sun.

“I’ll lead,” Rick said, moving in front of her and heading northeast.

“Why?”

He tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “Because I’ve got the real directional equipment. It’s a guy thing.”

She rolled her eyes and glanced at Havers, who was waiting for them to pick a route. “I thought that only helped you find women.”

“It has other uses.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that in my report,” Jamie told him, and fell into step. If Rick felt walking in front of her made him a man, let him. She was more interested in surviving this assignment. Havers walked behind her.

Last night had been a total failure in the sleep department. She’d barely managed to relax, then it was her turn for night duty. She’d paced around the camp, trying not to think about which creepy crawlies were trying to attach themselves to her. When Benton had relieved her, she still hadn’t been able to sleep. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. Not from the heat or the bugs, but from a feeling that wouldn’t go away. A feeling that something bad was going to happen.

After a few minutes, she glanced at her compass. “You’re straying too far east. We’re supposed to go due north for a mile or so, then head east. On this course, we’ll miss the whole northwest end of the valley.”

She glanced at Havers. He grinned but was silent.

Rick ignored her and kept walking. “Men,” she muttered, and continued to check her compass. She noted their position and the movement of the sun. They were coming out of the densest part of the jungle, and she could actually see patches of blue sky overhead. Sweat poured down her face and back. It had to be nearly a hundred degrees with close to ninety percent humidity.

Two hours later, Rick stopped and took a drink from his canteen. Jamie pulled out a small piece of paper. She’d made a hand-drawn copy of the map on the table.

“We should have reached the river by now,” she said.

“I’m taking a different route.” Rick didn’t meet her gaze.

“You’re lost,” she said flatly, then sighed. She should have taken charge the first second he’d stepped off course. “At least it’s not a big valley.”

She glanced at Havers. The tall man sipped from his canteen. “How long were you going to let us wander around lost?” she asked.

Havers shrugged. “Another couple of hours.”

“Do you know where we are?”

“Of course.”

“Great.” She exhaled sharply, then glanced up at the sun. If she didn’t want to be completely humiliated, she was going to have to figure this out herself. At least they weren’t in any real danger.

“We’ve been heading too far east,” she said. “If we go due north, we should find the river.”

Rick glanced at her. “I make the decisions, Jamie.”

She felt as if she’d been slapped. “What’s going on with you? We just spent six months training together, and all of a sudden you’re going to act like a guy?”

“I—” He paused, then smiled sheepishly. “Dumb, huh? Sorry. You’re right. I guess being out here in the open has—”

Suddenly Havers motioned for silence. Jamie stared at him. She’d heard it, too. A whisper of conversation. A crackling of movement. Who else was out there?

Havers motioned for them to get in line behind him, then pointed back the way they’d come. That feeling at the back of her neck returned.

The blast of a single gunshot cut through the jungle. Birds took flight, unseen creatures screamed and Nick Havers crumpled to the ground.

Instantly Jamie was at his side. She rolled him over and saw the single hole in the center of his forehead. She didn’t have to check his pulse to know he was dead.

“What the hell is going on?” Rick asked in a heated whisper.

She heard the panic in his voice and felt terror building inside her chest. Before she could move or even breathe, a voice broke the silence.

“Come, come, chica. This way, pretty lady. Your boyfriend, too. We’ll take good care of you.”

A dozen men broke through the thick green foliage. They were all in camouflage and heavily armed. Some had rifles, and a couple were carrying automatic weapons.

Fear exploded in Jamie’s belly. Her heart pounded and her breathing increased. But she refused to let them know she was afraid.

The man in the middle, broad and a couple of inches taller than her with a scar on one cheek, approached. He took her pistol and slipped the knife from her utility belt. She stared straight ahead, forcing herself not to react or even speak. The man cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Very nice,” he said, his accent heavy. He released her, then spoke in Spanish, ordering his men to tie them up.

A few minutes later, they were once again on the move. Havers’s body had been left where it had fallen. A man walked closely behind Jamie, prodding her with the tip of his rifle. He kept up a steady stream of conversation. She understood Spanish well enough to know he was detailing exactly what he planned to do with her that night. When it was his “turn.” She forced her mind away from the images invoked and willed herself to focus on survival.

The camp was large and well organized, with makeshift huts instead of tents. Jamie and Rick had been secured in the center of the cleared area, tied to poles about six feet apart.

Everyone watched them. Even if she’d been able to loosen the ropes at her wrists or ankles, there was no way to escape. They would be spotted in seconds. Several soldiers spoke English, so communicating with Rick was futile. They were well and truly trapped.

She glanced up at the sun and figured they had about an hour of daylight left. Despite the crude threats made on the way to camp, no one had approached her. She wondered if they were going to wait until dark or if the words had simply been a cruel trick to frighten her. If it was the latter, it had worked perfectly. She didn’t dare close her eyes. If she did, she saw Havers falling to the ground again and again.

She was dying of thirst. Neither of them had been given any food or water all day. She didn’t dare ask. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself. As she sat on the hard ground with her hands tied behind her and her bound legs straight in front of her, she tried to be calm. To think. What would Zach do?

That thought helped her survive the rising panic. She recalled all of her training and searched for a piece of information that would assist her. When it didn’t materialize, she told herself Zach Jones had pushed her harder than any other recruit. She was smart and, thanks to him, she was tough. She would make it. She ignored the voice that whispered no matter how hard she trained, she was still a woman…and therefore was vulnerable in ways a man rarely understood.

A small jeep drove to the edge of the compound. Jamie glanced up and caught her breath. Ernesto stepped out and spoke with one of the men. Why was he here? He was supposed to be working for the Americans.

Okay, maybe he was collecting information, she told herself. He had to have something to sell. But the prickling she’d felt last night got worse. Something was wrong.

Ernesto spotted her and strolled over. He squatted in front of her. “Jamie, here you are. I’m so glad they found you.”

He leaned forward and touched her face. She jerked her head free and glared at him, but didn’t speak.

“Such fire. I sensed that right away.” He stood up and smiled. “Soon, Jamie. Soon.”

He walked away.

She sat there trembling until the sun had set and the temperature began to drop. Night creatures took flight. The scent of flowers and the sickly sweet smell of decaying foliage was replaced by the smell of cooking food. Her stomach growled. Most of the men disappeared into the largest building. Only a few were left on patrol.

Now, she told herself. This was her moment to escape. There was only one problem. She couldn’t free her hands. She’d tried several times. The ropes were tight enough to scrape off layers of skin. Her fingers were nearly numb.

“Jamie, can you get free?” Rick called from behind her, speaking for the first time since they were captured.

“No, can you?”

“Uh-uh. They’ve got me tied tight. Don’t worry. Our team will come after us.”

“You, maybe,” she muttered. “Zach will be thrilled to have me done in by the enemy. It will prove all his theories correct.”

They sat in silence. She tried not to think about how hungry she was. Or the fact that she had to go to the bathroom, or what would happen later.

In the distance, she heard an odd, high-pitched shrieking. It wasn’t a bird, yet the sound was familiar. A heartbeat later, something slammed into the largest hut and exploded. The noise was deafening. Had she been standing, the explosion would have knocked her off her feet.

A stun grenade.

Men on patrol staggered around, obviously disoriented. Seconds later three dark shapes slipped into camp. There was a blur of movement, then the guard fell to the ground unconscious. The rescue team separated. One of them ran toward Jamie.

She recognized Zach. Relief brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked back the weakness.

“Havers is dead,” she said quickly as he reached behind her and cut through the ropes. “They shot him in the jungle. There are about two dozen men in the big hut. Another dozen on patrol. Ernesto is here.”

Zach glanced at her then. He wore a close-fitting black jumpsuit and a black cap on his head. There were smudges on his face. A hundred or so feet away, someone fired a gun.

Zach finished with her legs and pulled her to her feet. The rush of pain almost made her sick. He held her for several seconds as she breathed in slowly. Blood filled her numb limbs. She shook her feet, then flexed her fingers.

When she could stand on her own, Zach handed her the knife and a pistol. Then he did the strangest thing. He touched her cheek. Just once. His dark gaze met hers. She caught her breath. There was another gunshot. Zach turned away. “Get Rick,” he said, and was gone.

By the time she got to Rick, men were spilling out of the large hut. They staggered around, covering their ears and their eyes. The wind carried the scent of tear gas. Sporadic gunfire cut through the night.

When Rick was free, she helped him up. Her legs and hands still burned, but it was getting better.

Rick swore. “This hurts like a son of a bitch.”

“Tell me about it. Try walking anyway. We’ve got to get out of here.”

They started inching toward the edge of the compound. The men were still stunned and staggering. Jamie kept an eye on them. Dark shapes slipped around, taking care of anyone who regained his senses too quickly.

One of their rescuers grabbed Ernesto. She was too far away to hear their conversation, but she knew the man in black was Zach. She watched closely. Then a flicker of movement caught her attention. Something in the brush. A shadow. A glint of a rifle aimed at Zach’s back.

There wasn’t time to do anything but act. She pushed Rick out of the way and raised the pistol. As she squeezed the trigger, she reminded herself that her still-stinging arms wouldn’t be able to handle the recoil. She willed herself to stay strong and fired three bullets into the soldier. The man sank noiselessly to the ground.

Across the compound, Zach’s dark gaze found hers. He’d been wrong about her inability to take a life. She’d just taken her first. The thought should have thrilled her. Instead of celebrating, she took two steps, bent at the waist and vomited in the bushes.

Chapter 3

Three days later, she was still being debriefed.

“There was no warning before Nick Havers was shot?”

Jamie stared at her boss. She’d met Winston Danville III briefly, when she’d been accepted as a trainee. The man had white blond hair and icy blue eyes. There was something ominous about him.

He wore a gray suit with a white shirt and navy-and-red-pin-striped tie. He should have looked like an executive. His office was plush, his chair leather, his desk big enough to serve as a runway for small aircraft.

“No, sir,” she said firmly, although inside she was shaking.

He flipped through the file in front of him. “It says here you were the best recruit we’d hired in years. So why’d you act so irresponsibly?”

Jamie glanced to her left. She could see Zach sitting on a chair against the far wall. He’d accompanied her to all her debriefings, except for the one with the agency psychiatrist, and now he was silently observing her conversation with Danville.

Best recruit? Who had told him that? “Sir?”

“Rick Estes got the three of you lost. Well, the two of you. I doubt Havers was lost. Why’d you let Rick take charge if you knew he was wrong?”

Jamie grimaced. “You’re right, sir. I should have said something. He’d never acted like that before. It threw me. I kept track of our course. I was pretty sure about where we were. I’d drawn a map and—”

“You had a map?” Danville asked.

“Yes, sir. We weren’t given one, and that seemed odd. I didn’t think the point was for us to get lost.” Now she wasn’t so sure. “Was it?”

Danville didn’t answer the question. He shuffled a couple of papers on his desk. “According to your file, you’ve never expected special treatment because you’re female. You’ve pulled your weight. Why this sudden shyness around Estes? You sleeping with him?”

Jamie raised her chin slightly and met Danville’s chilly gaze. “Intimate relationships between agency operatives aren’t forbidden, sir. But, no, Rick and I are friends. I let him because—”

She hesitated. Dammit, she hated that she’d messed up, and on her first assignment, too. As for why she’d behaved so foolishly…she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him the truth. She sneaked another quick glance at Zach. His impassive features didn’t give her much in the way of advice on the situation. She drew in a breath and figured she might as well risk making a fool of herself.

“I hadn’t been sleeping well. Nerves, I guess. I was tired and not a hundred percent. In addition, I couldn’t shake this feeling.”

“What feeling?” Zach asked, speaking for the first time.

His low voice made her shiver. She didn’t know what he was thinking, which was probably a good thing. But oddly, instead of resenting his presence, she drew comfort from him. He was the devil she knew. His brand of justice was swift. He wouldn’t torture her. If he thought she screwed up, he would just let her go.

“I had this prickling at the back of my neck.” She lowered her gaze to her hands and stared at the raw sores encircling each wrist. The ropes had rubbed away her skin. “I felt that something bad was going to happen. That’s why I made a copy of the map. I didn’t want to be unprepared.” She stiffened her shoulders and waited for his laughter.

“Why didn’t you report this feeling of yours?” Zach asked.

She turned to look at him. “What?”

“Obviously something bad did happen. If you’d reported your misgivings, we might have been able to prevent Havers’s death and the kidnapping.”

“By not sending me, you mean,” she said, and returned her attention to Danville. “I know Ernesto came after me because I’m a woman. I put the mission in danger.”

Zach swore.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Danville said. “Oh, I’m sure the fact that you were female pleased him. Ernesto knew that we would be bringing in two recruits. He arranged for the kidnapping, because he knew we’d pay to get you and Rick back and he wanted the money. You two wouldn’t have the training to survive. Not to mention the fact that it wouldn’t look good for the agency. Havers was an experienced field agent. That’s why they killed him.”

She stared at him and blinked. “You mean it wasn’t about me?”

“I told you, Sanders,” Zach said. “You make everything personal. It’s a big mistake. You’re going to have to get over that or you’ll never make it in the field. Ernesto had turned on us. He didn’t think we knew, but we were onto him.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Nothing made sense. She tried to remember Ernesto’s brief visit to the camp. He’d been friendly with everyone. She’d had no idea.

Danville closed the file. “You may keep the hotel room here in town for a couple of days. Report to the agency on the twenty-second to get your next assignment.”

Jamie stared at him, then at Zach. “That’s it? I’m still in?”

Danville smiled. “You’re still in, Ms. Sanders. Congratulations.”

She shook his hand, then hesitated, not sure what to say to Zach. He ignored her, so she left. On her way to the elevator, she ran the brief conversation over in her mind. Danville hadn’t wanted to yell at her. She hadn’t been fired. She’d made it!

The elevator doors opened. As she stepped inside, a voice called, “Hold them, please.”

Her index finger hovered over the Close Door button, but at the last minute, she pressed Open. Zach walked in.

Instead of facing front like a normal person, he leaned against the side wall and stared at her. She glanced at him, then quickly turned her attention to the row of lights above the door. They flashed one after the other as they rode down toward the ground.

Her skin got prickly. She chalked that up to excitement and leftover nerves. Seventy-two hours before, she’d been in the middle of a Central American jungle, held prisoner by the enemy.

The elevator stopped on the twenty-first floor and let in three women. They were all dressed in suits, stockings and high heels. They dismissed her with a quick glance, while Zach became the focus of their attention.

Typical, Jamie thought with a trace of irritation. No one cares what a man wears, but a woman’s clothing is all-important. Well, not for her. She was off duty and she planned to spend it the way she always did—in jeans and a sweatshirt. Zach wore the same casual clothing, but while she looked messy, he looked…wonderful.

She grimaced. His sweatshirt, soft from countless washings, hugged his shoulders and emphasized his narrow waist. Worn jeans had faded to white in the most interesting places, including the seams by his hips and crotch. With his smoldering dark eyes and lean good looks, he was temptation incarnate. Assuming she was in the mood to be tempted.

She swore under her breath. She thought she’d gotten over her crush months ago. Oh, sure, she found the man attractive. Who wouldn’t? But it wasn’t about a man-woman thing. She wanted him to say Good job, Jamie. Well, done. She wanted him to like her.

Quit wishing for the moon, she told herself, even as she recalled the feel of his hand against her cheek when he’d rescued her. Why had he touched her like that?

When the elevator stopped on the ground floor, she quickly stepped into the foyer of the large office building. She hurried to the wide glass doors and stepped out in the crisp fall afternoon. A taxi had pulled up and emptied its passengers. She waved to get the driver’s attention, then jogged across the sidewalk.

“The Hyatt,” she said, as she slid onto the back seat.

“You don’t mind if we share, do you?” Zach asked, appearing at the door.

The driver glanced at her. She shrugged and moved to the far side of the bench seat.

They rode to the hotel in silence. Jamie could feel her tension increase with every mile. She clasped her hands together and stared out the window, refusing to acknowledge his presence or the odd heat in her belly. When they arrived, she handed the driver a twenty, muttered for him to keep the change and tried to make her escape.

It didn’t work. Zach followed her onto the elevator and, when she reached her floor, he stepped out behind her. She turned toward him.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“We have to talk.”

“No, we don’t. You’re not my training instructor anymore. You can’t punish me or humiliate me or tell me I’m not good enough. I made it, sir, despite your attempts to keep me out.”

He stared at her, his dark eyes as unreadable and bottomless as the road to hell. “Who do you think told Danville you were the best recruit we’d hired in years?”

“Wh-what?”

He grabbed her elbow. “Which room?”

“801.”

He steered her down the wide, silent hallway, then waited while she fumbled with the plastic card key.

The corner room was a mini-suite with a king-size bed, a sitting area and a wet bar. She’d been told not to expect this kind of treatment during all her stays in the capital, but this time was special. She’d graduated and survived her assignment. This was her reward.

Once inside, Zach led her to the sofa in the corner. She sat down, still trying to absorb his words. He’d told Danville she was the best recruit? He’d told Danville? No way. It wasn’t possible.

“But you hate me,” she said, glancing up at him.

One corner of his mouth turned up in a decent facsimile of a smile. “Yeah. More and more each day. That’s why I rode you so hard, Sanders. To make you drop out.”

“Well, wasn’t that the reason? You said women make crummy agents.”

“I said women had problems they had to overcome. You only heard what you wanted to hear. You made it personal, Sanders. You always do.”

Moving with the liquid grace she’d always admired, he sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. They both had long legs. Her knees were together; his were apart. If she slid to the edge of her seat, her knees would brush against his inner thighs. The intimacy of their positions startled her. Suddenly it was difficult to breathe.

Zach didn’t seem to notice. He leaned closer and grabbed her right hand. He stared at the raw sores on her wrist.

“Hurt?” he asked.

“Yeah. They gave me a medicated cream. It should help me heal pretty quickly, and I probably won’t have a scar.”

His touch was surprisingly gentle…as it had been in the jungle. His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a powerful current humming up her arm. She felt her eyes widen and she glanced down so Zach wouldn’t see.

No, she told herself. She wouldn’t make a fool of herself in front of him. He must never know that she admired and respected him, and that she had spent countless hours of training seminars staring at his butt.

He released her hand, and she nearly whimpered in protest.

“I wasn’t pleased about having a woman in my class,” he said. “I’d had them before. Too much work and trouble. They slept with all the guys and stirred up resentments. Besides, only one had ever passed the obstacle course in the time allowed.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“You worked your butt off for it, Sanders, and I respected that. You know when I knew you were going to make it?”

He respected her? The elation was powerful enough to make her giddy. She kept her gaze firmly on the small square of carpet visible between their feet and struggled for control.

“No, sir,” she said quietly.

“When I came out of the forest on a run one morning and saw you practicing. Sleep is a premium during training, but you gave up some so you could practice. Why do you think I helped you in the gym?”

She looked at his face. “You helped me? On purpose?”

He shrugged. “You had determination. I wanted you to succeed.”

“But you were so hard on me.”

“I was hard on everyone, Sanders. Who do you think granted your appeal on the obstacle course?”

She stared at him. Had she been misreading him the whole time? She thought for a moment, then voiced the question that had troubled her for days. “Did you really request me on the mission?”

“Yes, and I’m glad I did.”

He stood up and in the blink of an eye, the pleasant man she’d been speaking with disappeared. He placed his hands on his hips and glared down at her. “What the hell were you thinking? You let some snot-nose macho kid take charge when you knew he was wrong?”

His quick change in personality left her gasping. “I…I…”

“Well? Explain it. You’re smarter than most of the agents. They’re not going to like you for it, Sanders. So what? Get over it. Do your job. You’re no good to the agency if you’re dead.”

She sprang to her feet. “I made a mistake.”

“You’re not allowed mistakes. Why did you do it?”

“I thought I could keep track of where we were.”

He leaned toward her. “Why did you do it?”

“Because I—” Her eyes began to burn. Dammit, he wasn’t going to make her cry. “Rick’s a friend of mine. I didn’t want to make him feel bad, okay?”

“Not okay.” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

“Never okay. If you know you’re right, be right. Follow your instincts. When the skin on the back of your neck crawls, do something about it. If Rick or any other man is heading in the wrong direction, speak up. Use your brain, your intuition and every other ability you’ve been given. Because if you don’t, you die.”

She swallowed hard. “I was confused. I didn’t know why he was acting like that.”

Zach leaned closer, until she could feel his breath on her face. “He acted like a jerk because I ordered him to. It was a test and you failed.”

She brought her hands up and knocked them against his forearms, pushing his hands off her shoulders. She stepped back because the alternative was to slug him high and hard in the rib cage, just as her track coach had taught her. One part of her mind noted that Zach let her break his hold. She knew he could have taken her easily.

“Bastard,” she said, her voice low and angry. “Who gave you the right to play games with my life?”

“My job. I suspected this would be a weakness for you. You failed the test this time, Sanders, but you’ll never fail it again.”

She was speechless. Betrayal, pain and anger all swirled together. He’d set her up. Worse, he’d used a friend to do it, damn him.

“Get out,” she ordered.

“Not yet. There’s one more piece of business we have to discuss.”

“I have nothing more to say to you.”

“Don’t blame Estes.”

She glared at him. “I don’t blame Rick. I blame you.”

She turned away and walked to the window. From here she had a view of the capitol, but she couldn’t see the historical building or even the traffic snarling below. She couldn’t focus on anything except the fact that Zach had set her up.

She wasn’t mad at Rick. He’d just been following orders. But Zach. She’d hoped for something else from him. She grimaced and stared at the view. Funny how the broken dreams still had the power to hurt her.

“I did it because you can be more,” he said quietly. “You can be the best. Rick will stay with explosives. He’ll be a good man to have on a team, but he’ll never do the thinking.”

“Oh, and I will?”

“Maybe. Go ahead and be mad at me all you want. Just don’t forget what you learned. Next time I might not be there to rescue you.”

“May I remind you, Agent Jones, that I’m the one who saved your sorry hide?”

“I know.”

His voice was gentle. Too gentle. She felt her defenses slipping away. She tried to hold on to her anger, but it faded, leaving her vulnerable.

She didn’t hear him move, but she sensed him come up behind her. She stiffened.

“You have to deal with it,” he said softly. “Now. Or it’ll eat you up inside.”

She closed her eyes. “I’m not going to think about it.”

“That’s what the psychiatrist told me you’d said.”

“So much for confidential patient information.”

“You aren’t a patient. You were being debriefed. Dammit, Jamie, you killed one man and watched another die. You have to talk about it.”

She would have been fine if he hadn’t called her Jamie. “You never said my name before,” she whispered.

“Sorry. Sanders.”

“No, ‘Jamie’ is fine. I—Do we have to talk about it?”

“Yes.”

She swallowed. She didn’t want to even think about it. The horror was too great. Seventy-two hours later, she could still see the man falling to the ground. She could still feel the recoil of the pistol and the way her stomach had clenched and rebelled. She could see Havers’s body lying there.

When she’d spoken with the agency psychiatrist, she’d answered questions about the mission and her part in it. When the elderly man had tried to bring up the killing, Jamie hadn’t wanted to talk about it. She still didn’t.

“It wasn’t what you thought,” Zach said, still standing behind her. “You imagined killing someone, but it was different.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

She’d slammed the door shut on those thoughts, but his words opened it a crack. The first flicker of feeling swept through her, and she shuddered.

“You’re surprised because the killing is easy. It’s the forgetting that’s so hard.”

She turned to face him. He was close enough to touch. Large and looming, but he didn’t frighten her. Not anymore. “How do you know?”

“I’ve been there, Jamie. I want to tell you it gets easier. In a way, it does. But just when you think you won’t have to pay a price again, a death will hit you hard. Then you deal with it all over again.”

She had thought of him as uncaring, mean-spirited, even cruel. But at this moment, he was the kindest man she’d ever known.

“I can’t close my eyes,” she said. “I don’t see him falling anymore. But I can’t sleep. I’m afraid I’ll dream. I’m not sorry he’s dead. I just didn’t think—”

Zach reached up and stroked her face. His fingers brushed away tears. She touched her other cheek, shocked she was crying.

She spun away. “I’m sorry. I never cry.” She blinked hard, but the tears continued to fall.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’m stronger than this.” She tried to control her breathing. It didn’t help. A sob caught her off guard. She clutched the window frame.

“You don’t have to be tough all the time,” he said.

“Yeah, I do. I can’t—” Oh, God, she couldn’t break down in front of Zach. “Please leave,” she murmured.

Instead of leaving, he put his hands on her shoulders. She tried to shrug him off, but he ignored her efforts. He turned her and gathered her close, pulling her into his embrace.

She resisted, hating her weakness, hating herself for wanting to give in and borrow his strength.

“Hush, Jamie,” he said softly. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

He knew her better than she knew herself. A sob overtook her, and she sagged against him. His arms came around her. He held her tightly, as if he feared she might be torn away from him. She cried until she was drained and empty.

Gradually she became aware of his body close to hers. Somehow during her outburst, he’d moved them both to the sofa. He was sitting in the corner with her curled up next to him. His arms held her close. She could hear the steady sound of his heart and feel the rise and fall of his chest. He smelled masculine and tempting. Very tempting.

The first trickle of desire was easily explained away. The second was more difficult. Then the trickle turned into a flood and she had to stiffen to keep from reaching out to him. Without thinking, without wanting to, she raised her head to look at him.

His dark eyes brightened with a fire she’d never seen before. A muscle twitched in his cheek.

“Dammit, Jamie, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“As if I’m some kind of hero. You were right when you said I was a bastard.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, you do. You don’t want this.”

She wasn’t sure what the “this” was, but she was pretty sure she did want it. She’d never felt this way before. Guys had always been friends and amusing companions. She had more in common with them than with women. But she’d never felt the need to—

Slowly, cautiously, knowing he might turn on her at any moment, she raised her hand toward his face. Using just the tips of her fingers, she touched his jaw. It was midafternoon. She could feel the heat of him, and the prickling of stubble.

He grabbed her hand. This time his grip punished. He squeezed her fingers until she thought her bones might crack. But instead of pushing her away, he brought her palm to his mouth and kissed her sensitive skin.

She felt the fire all the way down to her toes. Her breath caught in her throat. Her breasts, which had never been more than a nuisance before, swelled and she began to sense the possibilities. Between her thighs, a different kind of heat formed and grew, leaving her feeling both bold and weak.

Zach bit the soft skin of her palm, then used his tongue to soothe the wound. He released her, then leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes.

“The first damn day,” he muttered. “I spend six months avoiding this, and the first day you aren’t my responsibility, I blow it.” He swore again.

Blow it? Avoiding it? She stared at him. “You’ve wanted to have sex with me for six months?”

He grabbed her hand again, but this time he brought it to his crotch. She felt the long, hard desire there. Of course, she knew the mechanics of what went on. She’d seen naked men before. In high school, she’d had to walk through the boys’ locker room to get to the weights, and the teenagers often flashed her. But she’d never been impressed or interested. Until now.

Everything clicked into place. They’d both wanted the same thing and they’d both done their best to avoid it.

Zach started to stand up. Without thinking, Jamie shifted until she straddled him. She pressed against him to hold him in place. “Don’t go,” she said. “Please. I—”

She never got to say what she wanted. Just as well, since she wasn’t really sure.

Zach stopped her words with his mouth. He pressed his lips against hers, taking everything she offered and giving back more. When his tongue stroked against her tingling skin, she parted for him. She clung to his shoulders, her legs clamped around his thighs. Her world spun.

Nothing had prepared her for this. His hands were everywhere. Her back, her rear, her stomach, her breasts.

Her breasts. She sucked in a breath as he cupped her curves, then teased the taut peaks. She broke their kiss and arched back to give him more room. Every part of her body cried out for him. When he tugged her to the big bed in the center of the room, she went eagerly.

He made love as he lived—hard, on the edge, with an attention to details that left her weak. He removed her clothes, then traced every inch of her. As his mouth sought, then found, her sensitized nipples, his fingers performed magic between her thighs. She hadn’t known it could be like this.

She hadn’t known his chest would be so broad, or his muscles so supple. They moved and tightened in response to her tentative touch. He moaned low in his throat when she nibbled on his shoulder and tasted his salty skin. He caught his breath as he entered her tight, virgin body.

Later, when he’d shown her what all the fuss was about, when she’d stopped shaking and panting and the room was finally still, he braced his head on his hand and stared at her.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said.

She did her best to look innocent of the charge. “Tell you what?”

“That you were a virgin.”

“I—” She smiled uncomfortably and tried not to notice that they were both naked and the sheet and blankets were tangled around their feet. There hadn’t been any physical proof. Her active life-style had taken care of that years ago. “How did you know?”

His smile was rueful. “You were too surprised by everything.”

“Oh.” She felt herself blushing and she looked away. “I’m sorry if it was horrible.”

“It wasn’t.”

He placed his hand on her bare belly and stroked her skin. From there he moved up to her breasts. He cupped first one, then the other. Within seconds she was trembling and ready. He leaned close and took her nipple in his mouth. He licked the tight point, teasing her to mindlessness. Then he drew his hand down between her damp curls.

“If we make love again, you’ll be sore,” he said.

She parted her legs. “I’ll be okay.”

He smiled. A real smile. One that took her breath away. She realized she knew almost nothing about this man’s life. Not the details, anyway. But she knew him. She knew his soul. Surely that was more important.

She touched his short dark hair. “Maybe I won’t hurt so bad if I’m on top,” she said.

He laughed and hauled her close. As they touched from shoulder to shin, as his erection pressed into her belly, she felt a sense of homecoming. As if this was where she’d always belonged.

“How come you’re still a virgin?” he asked.

“I was a jock in high school and college. Most men don’t find that very sexy. I never got asked out, never went to my prom.”

He kissed her forehead. “I apologize for the stupidity of my gender.”

“It’s okay.”

“I have a cabin in Colorado. It’s not much, but it’s private and the view is spectacular. We could spend the week there.”

For the second time that day, she fought tears. This time she won. She smiled and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Just before dawn of the last day, she woke up alone. Jamie stretched, then reached for Zach, but he wasn’t there. She sat up. The back of her neck prickled uncomfortably, and she sensed something bad was coming. She even knew what it was.

A week ago, if someone had told her it was possible to memorize every inch of a person, to bring him to exquisite pleasure with her hands, mouth and body and still not know him, she would have thought that person was crazy. Now she understood the truth.

She and Zach had spent the past week together. She knew everything about his body and nothing about his mind. He silenced her questions with kisses. They ate together, read together, made love together and yet they were strangers.

She stood up and grabbed a flannel shirt from the bedpost. After slipping it on, she pulled on thick socks, then made her way into the living room. Embers from the fire cast little more than shadows, but she was familiar enough with the room to find her way in the dark. She was well trained enough to hear his breathing in the silence as he sat on the sofa.

She glanced at the window and saw the first hint of light. She wanted to get this over with before the sun came up. She didn’t want him to be able to watch her face. He read her too easily.

“We leave today,” she said. “So just go ahead and say it, Zach. It’s over, isn’t it?”

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice low and quiet in the darkness. “You have to choose.”

She hadn’t expected that. She crossed to the small dining set in front of the kitchen and pulled out a chair. The smooth wood was cold on her bare bottom. She shivered. “Between you and my job?”

“No, between your job and the real world. I made my decision a long time ago. I chose this world. I’ll never go back.”

She’d known from the beginning it wasn’t going to work. She’d known when he didn’t let her inside, when he didn’t share his heart, that this was just about sex. Maybe he picked a woman for every week off. Maybe she was the seventeenth one he’d brought to his cabin, just another notch on the bedpost.

“The job isn’t like selling insurance,” he said. “You can’t walk away from what you do. If you stay with the agency, you give it everything you have and there’s nothing left. You don’t get to be like everyone else. You live in the shadows, Jamie. You forget what it’s like to be in the light. You have the chance to be the best. You’ll pay a price for that. I want you to know—”

Her temper flared, and she cut him off. “What a terrific speech, Zach. How many times have you used it before? Shadows and light. Very evocative. But I’m not like your other bimbos. I’m not going to cry and I’m not going to beg. Save the rest of it for someone else. If you want me out of here, I’m gone.”

She rose to her feet. Before she could cross to the bedroom, he stood up and grabbed her forearm. She noticed he was careful to avoid the still-healing burns at her wrist. Damn him.

“This isn’t about me, Sanders,” he said. “It’s about you. You’re going to have to be faster, stronger and better. After a while, there isn’t anything left. I’m talking about an empty life. No family, no home—nothing normal.”

His words washed over her. She ignored them, ignored everything but the pain. She jerked free.

“You’re saying this because I’m a woman, right?” She shook her head. “You’re a hypocrite, Zach. I don’t see you having this conversation with Rick or anyone else.”

“Maybe they don’t have as much to lose.”

“Forget it. You’re asking me to give up everything I’ve ever worked for. Leave me alone,” she said. “I’m out of here.” She went into the bedroom and slammed the door. Ten minutes later, she was packed and heading out the door.

There was only one Jeep, but she didn’t care. She would leave it in town and pay someone to drive it back to him.

He made no move to stop her. She spared him one last glance as she started the engine. He stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but jeans. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, and the most dangerous. As usual, she didn’t know what he was thinking and she told herself she didn’t care.

She put the Jeep into gear and started down the mountain. The beauty that had enticed her the first few days no longer impressed her. She wouldn’t be able to look at a mountain without thinking about Zach.

As the sun crept over the eastern horizon, she told herself at least she hadn’t cried. She would put this incident behind her and pretend it never happened. Then the lie got caught in her throat, and she had to fight back a sob. Who was she trying to kid? Zach had been right—she took things too personally. She wanted to tell herself that in a few days she wouldn’t even remember him, but she had a bad feeling she was never going to forget.

Chapter 4

The Present

Jamie raised the binoculars to her eyes and stared at the compound. The spring desert sun beat down on her. She’d never seen Zach Jones again. She’d heard about him, had even followed his career, without letting anyone know her interest.

Despite her accusations, she’d found out that he didn’t take women to his cabin. In fact, no one else knew the small wooden house even existed. Except maybe Winston Danville. Their boss knew everything.

“I owe you this for making me the best, Zach,” she said. “Then we’re even and I’m out of this business.”

She checked her watch. Three minutes.

In three minutes they would find out if their plan was going to work. She pushed away the tiniest flicker of fear. She’d always figured she was going to die on a mission. Why not this one?

“Party time,” she said.

She pressed her head into the crook of her arm and began to count. When she reached a hundred and eighty seconds, the ground started to shake.

The explosion was deafening. Even though Jamie was over a hundred yards from the compound and the ammunition depot was on the far side of that, she experienced a few seconds of not being able to hear anything. Dust and bits of debris pelted her like hail. The air was smoky, the smell acrid. Even as her mind registered all these impressions, her thoughts were overwhelmed by one piece of good news. At least there hadn’t been any surprises. Just a good, old-fashioned explosion.

She reached for her binoculars and quickly scanned the area. Dozens of men ran toward the inferno. No one headed her way. She shrugged into her backpack, then rose to a crouch and moved toward the compound.

The clock in her head told her about five seconds had passed since the ground had started shaking. Time was not her friend. In less than ten or fifteen minutes, the terrorists would stop chasing each other around and organize. Her window to find Zach and get out was seven minutes, tops. She would waste two of those just getting to the building where he was being held. She shook her head to clear any last cobwebs from the explosion. Her ears stopped ringing, and she could hear the sound of her own breathing.

Then her mind kicked into high gear. She needed all her mental energy to stay alert. Bits of metal and wood continued to fall from the sky. In the distance, a cloud of black smoke reached toward the heavens. Burning fuel. She inhaled, then coughed. The chemical smell grew as she got closer to the main compound.

The south and a bit of the east wall had been destroyed three weeks ago when Zach had been captured. The depot explosion had taken out most of the west wall. A large fire truck rolled out of a garage and headed toward the smoking fire. Jamie paused at the last shallow indentation before the compound itself and looked around.

Only a handful of men remained. Their uniforms weren’t much different from her own. In the confusion, she might just pass for another soldier. She tucked her long braid down the back of her shirt and pulled her cap low. After scanning the area one more time, she pulled out her nine-millimeter Smith & Wesson automatic and ran.

When she reached what was left of the east wall, she flattened against it. A minute forty-five seconds had elapsed. Her eyes burned from the drifting smoke. Sharp bits of wood dug into her back. She ignored it all and pictured the compound diagram. Prisoners were kept in the third building over. If it was still standing. If he was still there.

Adrenaline coursed through her, and her heart pounded, but her head was clear. Zach had made her the best. This situation wasn’t unfamiliar. She’d performed this particular exercise many times before. The only difference was, now it was personal. Pray that one change in circumstance didn’t get them both killed.

She pushed off the fence and ran into the compound. A few soldiers milled around. One she passed looked dazed. When he glanced up, his eyes widened. The edge of her left hand connected with the back of his neck, and he went down.

A jeep raced past her. The officer in the front passenger seat screamed orders. She ignored him and jogged toward the only low, one-story building. The structure next to it had collapsed in on itself, but this one was fine. She pulled open the wooden doors.

Empty interrogation rooms lined both walls. Beyond them were small offices, also empty. The floor was concrete, stained with blood and cracked. The air smelled of fear and suffering, and of the dead. Jamie held her pistol ready and jogged toward the back, where the prisoners would be kept.

The compound was an outpost, its purpose to guard the depot and distribute munitions. There should only be a half-dozen prisoners. The first two cells were empty. The barred opening in the third door showed three starved men huddled together in the far corner. She ignored them and kept moving.

Three minutes twenty-five seconds.

The last door on the right was the one. She felt it in her gut as she approached. She glanced through the barred opening. One man lay on the dirty straw. He was turned away from her, but she would have known him anywhere.

“Zach,” she said softly. He didn’t stir.

She glanced at the thick, ancient lock, then the sturdy wooden door. Despite how easy they made it look in the movies, in real life it was time consuming to shoot open a door. But she didn’t have a key and there wasn’t time to find one. She kicked the door once in frustration, then prepared to fire on the lock.

She didn’t have to. As her foot connected with the wood, the door swung open. She immediately crouched down and moved away from the opening, prepared to shoot whoever was hiding inside.

No one appeared. She held her gun in front of her as she entered the cell. When she cleared the door, she jumped back and aimed her gun. But there was no enemy.

Zach stirred slightly. She heard the unmistakable clink of metal on metal. The unlocked door suddenly made sense. They didn’t need to lock him inside. He wasn’t going anywhere; they had him chained.

She was at his side in less than a heartbeat. His clothing hung in tatters, and there were bruises everywhere. She didn’t want to think about that. She had to concentrate on getting him out of there. She touched his shoulder, and he moaned.

“It’s all right,” she murmured. “You’ll be fine.”

She lowered her backpack onto the dirty straw and flipped open the flap. Her supplies were packed in the order she would need them. Her clippers were on top. As she reached for them, Zach rolled onto his back. Her body stiffened.

She knew about torture. She’d been beaten herself, threatened with death, shot, stabbed. She’d seen prisoners with broken legs and missing limbs. In her head, she’d known what he would look like when she found him. She’d promised herself she would ignore his condition long enough to make their escape. Seeing him now, that emotional distance wasn’t possible. Every fiber of her being rebelled against the truth.

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